A History of Henry: Not Too Young for True Love series
by PixiePaws1
Summary: Shortly after learning he is to be a father, Papa Charming searches for a toy for the future princess or prince. An unusual little girl presents him with just the right one, but there is more to the stuffed duckling toy than first appears, and it carries with it more than stitching and stuffing.


_**A/N: For those don't know this series, Henry is Emma's toy stuffed duckling. I was reading a chapter of The Chicken Reform to make sure I kept to my own canon for a part of Crushing Ice that I was working on, and this plot bunny hopped in and wouldn't leave (despite vigorous prodding!)**_

 _ **This started as a little piece on Charming's rescue of Henry from the moat as mentioned in The Chicken Reform, but as often happens, ended up quite something different once it made it to the page.**_

 _ **I absolutely adore Papa Charming, so this is for him. Hopefully he would approve.**_

 **A History of Henry**

Wherever possible, it is our parents that choose our name because that is their right.

It is their responsibility, to choose one that fits; however, it must be conceded that the name must come before both, the recipient's character is formed and the path they will walk in life becomes known. So it often follows, that despite the best intentions, many names simply don't sit well on those on whom they are bestowed.

Such is life.

Now and again the name that may initially appear to be incongruous to its recipient and their situation in society, ends up attached to exactly the right individual.

There was a legend in the Enchanted Forest, many men would say 'old wives' tale', that pixies often took entertainment from meddling in the affairs of humans. They are said to be particularly meddlesome in the matter of pregnant women if they should happen upon one; which was quite rare. There was just something about tinkering with the babe's future they found utterly irresistible.

Once upon a time a woman who was not yet aware that she was with child, was foraging for mushrooms in a grove far from her home. She was quite especially surprised at the number to be had, since the variety was not known to grow in large groups. She could not have known, but perhaps she should have guessed, that these had not occurred naturally.

These mushrooms were a particular favourite of the woodland pixies and this was their grove. They had set wards about their crop and two pixies were immediately drawn to the site as soon as her knife had cut the first stalk. Her transgression was forgiven due to the pixies' discernment of her gravid state and their desire to play merry with the babe to be born. They waited for her to turn her attention to her harvesting and, when she wasn't looking, one of the pixies blew softly on the mushrooms she had already placed in her wicker basket. She left with her treasures and the mushrooms made a good meal for herself and her husband.

The pixie-meddled mushrooms had no affect on the man, indeed, he would never know the supernatural tinge to what he had consumed. Neither did his wife. The wisp of magic had been intended for the child; hence it passed from the mother to the babe while the parents continued in their lives in complete ignorance.

In due course, the babe was born. The name given to her was, Evangelina; a name that may at first have seemed a tad fanciful for one so lowly born. But while in the grip of a fever that had taken hold as she laboured long to deliver her child, Evangelina's mother swore she kept hearing a name whispered in her ear. She would never know the whisper had come from the pixie magic that lay in her babe's blood. The whisper carried a name; Evangelina, and as the child was born fair, with freakishly white hair and whimsical silver eyes so pale they looked like ice, the mother decided the name was fitting.

Her mother had built somewhat of a reputation as a maker of toys. They were in the shape of the animals and the birds of the forest, and crafted from eclectic patchworks of intricately sewn materials. It was an occupation she had taken up shortly after discovering she was carrying Evangelina. Being much loved and doted upon by her tinker husband, when he took to the road for his bi-annual excursions required by his trade, he would look for unusual fabrics, both rich satins and brocades, and rough hemp and linens, to bring home to his industrious wife.

When Evangelina reached the age of 7, she was put to work with her mother. It was discovered she had a gift for needlework that surpassed even her talented mother. Her tiny fingers were sure and swift, never dropping a stitch or tearing the fabric. When observed at her work, the animal she was crafting would appear the same haphazard conglomeration of patterns and weaves as those her mother made. But just as she was adding the final stitches, Evangelina would be seen to whisper in the ear of her creation, and the simple toy would somehow take on a subtle change. It was not something that could be seen. Not for lack of trying by her mystified parents who had spent many an hour intently looking over Evangelina's creations. They could never actually find anything. It was something that a person felt whenever the toy was in their hands; a feeling of warmth and contentment.

Naturally, the toys were bought and passed onto young babes and children, and their parents noticed that even the most fretfully difficult child, calmed. They slept deeper and were less prone to fitful awakenings. Always the child would turn out to be sweet natured.

Evangelina was most diligent in the matter of overseeing each purchase of her wares. She insisted in the choosing of which was best suited to the intended recipient. It was often the case that she would snatch a toy from the customer's hand, cuddling it to her chest and stating clearly, "No. Not this one." Then she would fix her curiously iridescent ice eyes on the customer, never the child if it was present; and the customer would begin to bristle at such a disrespectful and intense perusal by a market urchin. Then Evangelina would pick up a toy and stroke its head and whisper in its ear, before holding it out to the customer with the words, 'It must be this unicorn,' (or this bear or this otter - or whichever creature toy she chose). 'No other will do.'

Her angelic face and determined expression swayed many a soul, but it was always the rapt way in which the child received into their adoring embrace the toy that Evangelina had insisted upon, that sealed the customer's satisfaction. Her mother had initially tried to dissuade her daughter from bullying the customers in such a fashion, but always Evangelina would have her way.

Not once did her mother ask how she knew to match which toy with each child. Perhaps way down deep in a corner of her heart into which she didn't care to look, her mother was afraid of the answer. Worried if she analysed too deeply or pushed too hard, the unnatural facility would abandon her daughter.

And Evangelina made a lot of money for her parents.

All magic has a price. Evangelina paid for hers with isolation. She was pretty but she had an oddness about her that was off putting to the practical and unimaginative residents of the small village in which she lived. Her only friends were the ones she crafted.

As she grew older and more aware that her special way with her patchwork animals was not usual, Evangelina struggled to explain how she was able to imbue each of her works with its own sliver of magical essence. All she could articulate was that she could see the animal that was waiting to be formed from within the piles of neatly cut fabric squares. Her hand would unerringly pluck exactly the pieces she needed, whereas her mother had to try many different combinations and placings before settling on what she would make. Then just as she made the final stitch, Evangelina would whisper 'Hello' into it's ear and felt it warm slightly. The sensation passed in a heartbeat, but that heartbeat was hers and it beat its magic into the toy.

Time passed in which the reputation of the amazing and exquisite works of the mother and daughter grew and began to spread.

Then one day in Evangelina's twelfth year of age, a king paused to peruse the offerings of their stall. He traveled without pomp and ceremony; intent on finding a gift which he might take home to his True Love, for they had only recently learned they were to welcome a babe of their own.

He had the kindest and most expressive of sapphire eyes presented above a wide and genuine smile. It was not clear if Evangelina recognised the status of the man for he was king of a neighboring land. It was, however, apparent that something in him captured her attention as none other had, for she dragged her chair to the front of the stall and jumped up onto it. Without a word she put her small palms against the king's cheeks and pressed her nose to his.

Her mother was horrified at such forward behaviour and apologised profusely. The king, though surprised at the young girl's antics, waved away the mother's concern and began to chuckle.

"T'is no worry. Will she tell my fortune or steal my purse?" The king asked, taking great pains not to blink as Evangelina's eyes bore into his.

"She would never steal, Your Majesty. She is given to peculiar turns, but always she is harmless," her mother assured.

Before the king could respond, Evangelina let go her hold upon the Royal face and, still standing on her chair, she turned to the riot of stuffed toys on her stall counter and picked up a yellow duckling. After whispering in the duckling's ear she presented it to the king. Her face was very serious.

"Henry's been waiting for her. No other will do," Came Evangelina's pronouncement, her tone sure. When the king accepted the toy, the girl added, "Her magic will make the memories strong. "

The king's mouth dropped open in surprise before he chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip. "Well, now. Henry, you say?" He asked, pinching the duckling's bill between his thumb and forefinger.

"Yes. Henry for her. Pretty yellow Henry for the little blonde babe," Evangelina confirmed, nodding vigorously. "They will be great friends."

The king laughed heartily, for he and Queen Snow had yet to use the charm that would predict the gender of the babe. He booped Evangelina's nose. "A little soon to be sure." He grinned conspiratorially, "But between you, me and Henry, I hope we do have a girl."

Evangelina smiled brightly and for a moment the king thought he saw a silver shimmer in the girl's eyes. "Pretty blonde girl for pretty yellow Henry."

The king was a kind man with a soft heart for children. He'd had a fancy to buy something to match Snow's eyes, perhaps as a good luck charm towards the babe's having the same colour, but he could not look into Evangelina's earnest eyes and turn down the yellow duckling.

"I'll tell you what. I'll buy Henry, but only if you will make me something truly special in a particular shade of green. I'll even send you the material. Do we have a deal?" The king asked. He tucked Henry under his arm and held out his hand for the girl to shake and seal the bargain.

This offer set her mother to calculating, but before she could suggest the price her daughter was shaking her head. "Henry is special. He will give them to her." Taking the king's proffered hand in both of hers and squeezing reassuringly, she added, "Until she is old enough to understand, they will comfort her."

The king cast a confused look towards the girl's mother, but saw she was just as uncertain as he. "Who will comfort her? Of whom do you speak?" He was beginning to think that the toy could be dangerous.

"Those who came before. The ones who would have loved her." Evangelina replied, her tone indicating that she thought it was obvious. She tilted her head to the side and observed his furrowed brow, then she pulled Henry from his grasp.

"He carries their love." She pointed to a patch of gold brocade. "Grandmother Eva's first ballgown." She pointed to a patch of pale yellow satin. "Grandfather Leo's favorite cravat, given to him by his daughter." She pointed to a patch of ancient looking lace that had yellowed with age. "Grandmother Ruth's wedding dress. So many memories and lots of love. Henry carries them all. You see?"

The king could not get his voice to work, so he just nodded. His deep blue eyes glistened as he touched the lace of his mother's wedding dress. He may have been skeptical that these articles had found their way to Evangelina's talented fingers, but he felt the connection as he stroked the roughened lace. The dress had been sold for a debt many, many years ago, so he had never seen it, but he felt suffused with love as he touched it. However things had turned out, his parents had married from a deep romantic attachment. It was no difficulty at all to know that Snow would treasure what this link to both their pasts would give to their child.

Evangelina was right; no other of the stuffed toys would do and no other would be needed.

His fingers trembled slightly as he took the toy into his possession. Knowing it for the miracle that it was, he was not going to question it. "Thank you. Thank you. This is . . .this is . . . truly amazing." Tears fell as he cradled the toy.

The asked sum was paid, although the king argued it was not nearly enough for the gift it was giving his family. Evangelina's mother was shrewd and she asked that he spread the word and provide Royal endorsement for their wares to supplement the price. The king gladly agreed.

When the gorgeous blonde baby princess arrived some months later, she was tucked in her crib with Henry clasped in her chubby arms. As she slept peacefully with a soft smile, her adoring Mama and Papa liked to think how proud their own parents would be of their beautiful grand-daughter. And if they thought they saw a soft glow emanating from Henry's historic patches and heard whispers that may have sounded like the voices of their beloved parents, well, perhaps it was not all in their imagination.


End file.
